Page 112 of Heal Me, Love Me

He moved again, dragging himself up and dropping back down until we both cursed. The car rocked beneath us as he found a rhythm that worked for his shoulder and destroyed every thought in my head.

I slid one hand up his stomach and kept the other locked on his hip. “You feel so fucking good.”

“Then hold on.”

I did.

He rode me harder, his body working over mine in tight, controlled movements that made it hard to think. It was too dark to see much, but I could feel every inch of him, his ass taking me again and again, his thighs tense against mine, and the way he kept chasing more even with one hand braced on the seat.

I pushed my fingers into his hair and pulled until his head tipped back.

“Ro.”

The sound of my name did something to me. I wrapped more of his hair around my fist and held him there, his throat exposed, his body still moving over mine because he couldn’t stop.

“Oh fuck,” he gasped.

I dragged my mouth up the side of his neck. “You like that?”

“Yes.”

I pulled harder, and his whole body rolled down on me.

“Shit.” His good hand slipped against the driver’s seat before he caught himself again. “Do that again.”

So I did.

His back bowed against my chest, and I bit at the skin beneath his jaw while he rode me harder, taking me deeper with every sharp little movement. I kept his head tipped back, kept my mouth on his neck, and slid my other hand around him until I had his cock in my fist.

With a curse, his hips jerked when I pumped him.

He fucked himself on me while I worked him in my hand, my mouth at his neck, my fingers tangled in his hair. Every pull made him take me harder, and every drop of his hips pushed me closer to losing it.

“You’re going to make me come too fast,” I warned.

“Good.”

“Keaton.”

“I want it.” He pushed down harder, taking me deeper. “I want to feel you.”

I tightened my hold on his hair, stroked him faster, and thrust up into him as much as the back seat allowed. “Come on my hand, baby. Let me feel you squeeze my dick while you do it.”

His body locked around me, and he came with a sound that filled the car. I kept stroking him, holding him against me as his head tipped back and his body shook. Then he dropped down one more time, taking me all the way, and I was done.

I came hard, buried deep inside him. For a few seconds, nothing existed but his breathing, mine, and the river moving somewhere beyond the glass. He eased back against me carefully, and I loosened my grip on his hair to smooth my hand over the mess I’d made of it.

“Shoulder?” I asked, my voice breathless.

“Still attached.”

“Keaton.”

“It’s okay.” His hand covered mine where it rested on his stomach. “I’d tell you.”

Eventually, we cleaned up with napkins from the console and more awkward shuffling than either of us deserved after sex that good. I helped him get his joggers back up because he had only one useful hand and too much pride. He complained the whole time, but he let me.

Once we were dressed enough to be decent, he settled sideways against me, his good shoulder near my chest and his legs stretched out as much as the space allowed. I wrapped an arm around his waist and kissed the side of his head.